


finally see, you're as fucked up as me

by Prie



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prie/pseuds/Prie
Summary: Akira was complete, incomplete, then completed again.(Soulmate AU where soulmates are soulbonded with a tether that thrums underneath their skin.)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 218





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

“I don’t know why I’m doing this.” Goro Akechi says, feeling like the world’s biggest punching bag. A clipboard hits him over the head. Tae Takemi scowls at him. 

“So melodramatic, you kids. Will you stop being so testy for five minutes?” She tsks, leaning back in her chair. “I’m just doing a regular check up, as requested by your boyfriend. He did it too, y’know.” 

At the mention of his boyfriend, Goro flinches; if anything, Goro becomes more prickly. He looks at his hands, covered by gloves. Protection. He knows Akira is outside, sitting as close to the door as possible and eavesdropping. 

“Yeah, but that’s not all this is, is it?” He hisses back, cradling his left hand like it’s been scorched by fire. “It’s because of the bond.” 

Takemi narrows her eyes, leaning forward to glare back at him. After a few minutes, Goro breaks eye contact, lips pursed. Takemi smiles in satisfaction, and prepares a needle.

“Look, kid, All I was told is that you might have some health issues, what with disappearing for 2 years?” Tae mocks slightly, holding up her hand to ask Goro for his. Reluctantly, he gives it to her, and she rubs his skin with the disinfectant. “Akira just wants to know if you’re okay.”

Two years. Two years after Maruki had messed with the space time continuum so bad, it left Goro in a hopeless limbo between life and death that he’d only escaped either out of sheer luck or the grace of a fickle god.

Goro’s brain is going into overdrive, eyebrows furrowed to distract himself as Tae draws the ichor from his veins. He remembers the day they’d found out they were soulmates. On the way back from their late night fight at mementos, when Akira had reached out to grab Goro’s ungloved hand to prevent him from falling over when the train jerked to a stop. He hadn’t expected to feel the _buzz_ , electricity coursing through his body as pulses of warmth ran through him, filling him from head to toe. He looked over to Akira, expecting to see the same bewilderment, but all he found was a huge smile and elation in his eyes that could threaten to eat Goro alive with no hope to survive. It had to be a mistake, a sick joke the universe decided to play just to spit in his face. 

But it didn’t matter. Goro’s plans had to remain unchanged. This was all he knew. Even when they were holding hands and kissing each other senseless, or lying in bed, bodies pressed tight against each other, pinkies hooked together to feel their bond thrumming under their skin. It couldn’t last. If Akira were truly his soulmate, he’d understand.

When Goro was walking toward the fated room, gun heavy in his hand, he remembered the boy with tousled hair and fair skin that sat beside him, arm lazily slung over his shoulder while they both sat in silence reading. Goro almost regretted shooting him between the eyes. 

It didn’t look like the face of a man that understood.

He has nightmares, regrets, and he wished for his core to stop trembling at the thought of lazy smiles and the taste of coffee on his lips. And then suddenly, Akira’s not dead, he’s pleading with Goro; he's reaching for his hand. Goro doesn’t remember much, too caught up in his madness; but then just before the nothingness hit him, there was sorrow, regret. He bleeds out just inches away from Akira, wanting to feel the thrum beneath his skin again, just beyond the closed bulkhead door. He doesn’t deserve it, he never had.

“Kid? You alright?” Tae waves her hand in front of Goro’s face, startling him out of his reverie. He looks around quickly, spots the blood in the tube, and the plaster stuck on his arm. It was already over. “You don’t have an issue with needles like Akira does, do you?” 

“Akira has an issue with needles?” Goro asks instead, eyebrows furrowing. Before Tae can respond, the door opens behind her, and Akira enters the room with a tight lipped frown.

“Dr. Takemi.” Akira nods at her as a greeting, and she nods back. She leans back in her seat and rolls it over to the computer. After a few clicks, she turns back to Akira, motioning her pen in Goro’s direction. 

“I’ll send the test results to the lab; I’ll have it back to you in about a week,” she explains. He nods again, holding his hand out to help Goro off the examination bed. Goro narrows his eyes at Akira, pulling down his sleeve.

“You have an issue with needles?” Goro snaps, and Akira’s shoulders go tense. When he doesn’t respond, Goro scowls at him, pushing himself off the bed and walks out the door, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ to Tae as he walks out. The sun has already begun to set, casting the whole of Yongen Jaya a orange hue.

Akira doesn’t immediately follow after him, most likely to talk to the doctor about his _stupid_ test or something. Goro violently shoves his hands in the pocket of his jacket, doing his best to hold in the shiver that passes through his core as the early signs of winter send a chill down his spine as he walks towards Leblanc. He concentrates on his anger instead, face flushing in humiliation. Of course Akira never told him. Why would he? He’s probably the reason he has the fear in the first place. 

“I’ve been afraid of needles since I was a kid.” Akira, who still retains his ability to read Goro’s mind, says under his breath. Goro finally looks up to see him walking beside Goro, matching his hurried pace. Goro doesn’t respond, instead shoving open the door to Leblanc with more force than necessary. Akira, right behind him, catches the door right before it smashes into the wall. “I cried at the sight of blood and I was small, so to prank me, some kids would hold me down, prick my skin with sharp things they could find until they went too far, and it broke skin. I got infected so bad I had a fever. It’s not your fault.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He hates that he can't just tell if he's telling the truth, or making up an elaborate lie to satiate him. Either option makes Goro feel sick, like he’s about to vomit. Sojiro knocks gently on the counter to get their attention, and the both of them suddenly remember that they have an audience. Sojiro simply points upwards at the attic, face remaining perfectly neutral.

Goro quickly heads up the stairs, Akira following close behind. Absolutely incensed, Goro shells off his jacket and throws it at Akira, who lets it hit him. The jacket slides off of him and it falls onto the floor with a low thud. Unfazed, he starts to approach him, as though Goro was a startled animal. He realises he must look absolutely crazed, if Akira’s looking at him like that.

Like he actually cares.

“It’s not your-” 

“Shut up!” Blood rushes in his ears, and he shoves Akira, who stumbles back a few feet. “It was my fault! You don’t think I knew what they did to you in there?” 

Goro's lip trembles and he stomps forward to shove Akira again. This time Akira’s ready, and he stands his ground this time, grabbing hold of Goro’s arm before it makes contact with his chest. Goro flinches, and tugs his arms out of Akira’s grip. “You don’t think I had a say in what they did to you? You never told me- _You never told me-_! And I let them-!”

“Goro-” Akira reaches his hand to caress Goro’s cheek, but he lurches backwards violently. He can’t breathe. He can’t _BREATHE_ \---

“Stop TRYING TO TOUCH ME!” Goro screams, and he feels the temperature of the room drop. Akira’s hand drops to his side, tilts his head downward, as though he’s been scolded. Goro’s drops to his knees, the panic slowly ebbing away as he tries to pull air back into his lungs. Akira doesn’t move from where he stands, as if shocked silent. “I _hate_ it.”

“Boys.” Sojiro’s gruff voice rings out from the bottom of the staircase. No doubt, Akira’s guardian overheard his outburst. “I’m closing up early. I’ll leave the keys downstairs.”

It hasn’t been the same. Not since Maruki fucked it all up. Now they’re broken, now _he’s_ broken, far beyond repair.

Sojiro doesn’t wait for a reply that doesn’t come, because they can hear the door opening and closing downstairs. Goro waits for the ringing in his ears to stop, and when it finally does, he looks up to see that Akira’s moved across the room. Akira’s hand, palm facing him, gently outstretched toward him, a kind, sad smile on his face. Goro's heart skips a beat. He lets out a shaky breath, removes his glove, and holds his hand out to lace it together with Akira’s.

Nothing.

There’s a barely perceptible twitch at Akira’s mouth, and Goro takes his hand back, and there’s a cold empty feeling where there should have been nothing but the hum of a soulbond. 

“I should go.” Goro whispers, but his body is sluggish. 

“I thought you didn’t care about fate.” Akira grunts, and moves to cup Goro’s face. This time, Goro lets him, but it’s cold, cold, cold, _cold,_ “You're under no one's thumb now.”

“You’re right,” Goro nuzzles into Akira’s hand, before his eyes flicker to bore directly into Akira’s. “But you’re still disappointed, aren’t you?”

Akira doesn’t reply. Goro Akechi is tired.

“I thought so.” Goro stands up, and he feels like his head’s been stuffed full of cotton. He slowly makes his way down the stairs, and Akira must be talking, but he can’t hear anything past his disappointment.

His life is like a loose bit of string. Even after they’ve finally grown bored of him, let him live his life by his own rules, they plop him back on earth on a random street in the boonies, in a catatonic state while the world moved on without him. They make sure to cut out his heart too, leaving him to bleed everywhere and all over the only other person he’s ever cared about. He didn’t deserve it anyway, he supposes.

“Akira-senpai?” 

The both of them freeze at the sight of Sumire, standing by the door. Sumire was here. Why was she here? Her eyes fall on Goro, and widens in surprise. 

“Akechi-san?” She calls out, and Goro does his best to give her his trademark condescending smirk, even if he feels his insides twisting itself into knots. 

“Surprise.” He deadpans, and she gulped, straightening her posture. “Finally back from the states, yes? You’ve been away for two years now?”

“Ah- yes! My coach gave me the okay to head back home for a few days. I saw that Leblanc’s lights were still on,” She shuffles through her bag, before pulling out a little keychain of a palm tree. “I was thinking I could drop by and give Akira-senpai his souvenir- ah, I didn’t get you anything, Akechi-san- I mean, I didn’t even know you were alive-”

“It’s okay.” Akira finally cuts in before Sumire swallows her tongue trying to talk to Goro. He sidesteps Goro to stand in front of her, but he turns back to face Goro. “Stay, please.”

Akira says it with such yearning in his veins that Goro is rooted to the ground, and he nods his head, not trusting himself to speak. Maybe he could stay here. Maybe Akira actually wants him here. Akira had the power to defy fate- perhaps it might fix their broken one.

“Here you go senpai. I hope I wasn’t inter- AH!” Sumire suddenly yelps, and the souvenir clatters to the ground. Both Akira and her are frozen, staring at each other in disbelief, their hands flung backwards. 

“You- Senpai... we have…? We... didn’t before-” She starts. 

The spell Akira puts on Goro dissipates completely and cold harsh reality washes over him.

Goro gives them a weak smile, a faint echo of his television smiles, and he hates that his eyes are filling with tears.

“Who were we kidding?”

Akira doesn’t stop him as Goro walks out into the cold, body numb, but not from the cold. His head hurts, and he doesn’t know where he’s going; he just needs to get away from him. His soulmate, who has a perfectly good new one, gifted to him in as neat of a bow as the one tying Sumire's hair up

Back in Leblanc, Sumire is trying to get Akira’s attention, but he just continues to stare after Goro. The world was falling apart underneath him. Goro Akechi has always been a star, ready to burn out and take everything with him, and Akira's still hopelessly trapped in his orbit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ran a little bit longer than expected; and also, I edited a little of the first chapter of some grammatical and formating issues

There are many ways to describe how Akira feels right now. 

Confusion might be a good one. He’s _confused._ Goro Akechi, in all of his spite and sharp edges, is supposed to be his soulmate. Akira glances back at Sumire, whose cheeks have turned a brilliant shade of red, almost like a tomato. This can’t be right. 

Hopeless. Hopeless is a good one too. He’s too late to come to his senses, and he watches as Goro Akechi leaves. He’s stunned silent. Sumire’s looking at him, and he feels the burden of expectation being placed upon him. His mouth is dry.

Guilt is the final one. He hovers over her hand and he touches it cautiously, and there’s the unmistakable feel of a soulbond again. It’s not the same. It’s definitely not the same. _Theirs_ had felt jolting, like every touch could shock them awake and leave them with their heart pounding a million miles a minute. A thunderstorm within a touch. _This_ felt warm, like sitting by a kotatsu on a winter morning. A comforting hug.

He feels ill.

He withdraws his hand, shoving it into his pocket, and does the only thing he can think of at that moment. 

“Would you like some coffee?” 

Sumire nods wordlessly, taking a seat at the counter. There must be a thousand thoughts going through both of their minds right now. Takemi’s voice rings in his head again, when she’d stopped him from chasing after Goro.

_Soulbonds aren’t the end of the world, you know._

Sumire leans down to pick up the keychain that fell, and stares at it like it’s the heaviest object in the world. A silly gag gift, a kickstarter to walking down memory lane. Now, it just seemed like the precursor to something bigger than the both of them.

He exhales. He remembers Maruki’s reality, the gentle buzz he had felt touching Goro then. He’d missed that. He missed it so much, and Maruki had preyed on it to his advantage. Akira had found himself considering his deal, before Goro’s touch and harsh words had brought him back to reality and sobered him up. In that moment, soulbonds really might have been the end of the world. 

Akira glances back at the door. When Goro had burst through it a few days ago, Akira’s wallet had become one broken cup lighter. But it didn’t matter. In that moment, all he could think about was that this was his second chance- a second chance to just _hold him._

It was like a scene from a movie; Akira dashing out from behind the counter, Goro’s shield going down as he raised his arms up for when Akira tackled him, pulling him in for a kiss. But their lips had met to nothing but pins and needles.

It bothered him.

“Akira-senpai.” Sumire looks at him, her brilliant crimson eyes serious for once. Akira finds himself wishing it were a different set of red he was looking at. He finishes the coffee, gently pushing it at Sumire’s direction. “Are you okay?”

Akira forces a smile on his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Sumire frowns, before taking a sip of the coffee in front of her. This doesn’t feel right. She tucks her hair behind her ear, unsure of what to do. The silence grows uncomfortable. Akira feels numb. _This was Sumire’s soulbond too_. Pushing down the queasy feeling that boils in his stomach, he moves to take her hand again. Sumire startles at the sudden touch and looks at the former leader of the Phantom Thieves with a mix of confusion and surprise.

“Would you like to go on a date tomorrow?” 

\----

Akira picks Sumire up from her home exactly at 5pm that evening. He can see her parents sending her off at the door, looking at her with a pleased smile on their face. How relieved they must feel, that their daughter finally found her soulmate. If anything, it helps Akira stomach his feelings. 

He presents her a bouquet of flowers, an assortment of which the vague recollection of his flower guide can’t remember the full meaning of. Hesitantly, Sumire takes them, a light blush on her face. She’s wearing a cute blue sweater, pants and a scarf, bundled up for the cold. 

“What’s in there, Senpai?” She asks, pointing at the basket Akira is carrying. He simply shrugs, giving her a small grin as he motions toward the train station. 

He’s planned a perfect date. They reminisce a little as they walk toward the train station, Sumire telling Akira all about her studies abroad as he cuts in every once in a while to give her his input. It’s comfortable; it’s familiar. He brings her to a quiet spot by Inokashira, near a tree overlooking the lake. He lays the blanket down and gestures toward it, inviting Sumire to sit. She does, and he can sense her nervous energy when he sits across from her.

He begins to pull out packed dinners from the basket, all meticulously crafted, until there’s what appears to be a full course meal in front of her. She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. 

“Senpai! How long did it take you to make this?” She has a bright look in her eyes, and Akira moves to push his glasses up bashfully.

“It’s no big deal.” Sumire opens up the boxes and she almost salivates at the sight of the large variety of food placed in front of her. It definitely seems like a big deal. Delectable smells start radiating from the boxes and tupperwares as she opens them up one by one, dishes ranging from sweet and sour chicken, rice balls and of course, Leblanc’s signature curry. “You’re still a big eater, right?”

She nods excitedly, and Akira passes her a pair of chopsticks. She immediately starts piling dishes onto her plate like it’s going out of style. Akira crosses his arms in victory, happy that his hours of meal preparation did not go unappreciated. They begin to chat, falling into an easy back and forth. She helps herself to a second serving- and then a third, and Akira is glad he’d cooked so much. It’s so easy- Akira feels himself relax. He hasn’t even thought about---

Sumire begins to falter as she grabs a spoonful of the cauliflower mash. She looks up at him, words ready to be fired from her lips.

“... Senpai, I feel like I stepped on something last night, between you and Akechi-san.” 

\---And it's back. Akira swallows the rice he’s shoved into his mouth, and pulls himself together. He scratches his face in what he hopes looks like a nonchalant enough action.

“It wasn't a big deal.” He reassures her, like the soulbond between them is anything but natural, like it didn’t feel like betrayal was raking across his skin every moment he’s spending in her presence. Flushing slightly, she reaches out to touch Akira’s hand---he does his best to suppress the flinch. As their bond floods through their veins, Sumire’s face falls, and she breaks the connection. Akira lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, stilling when he realises Sumire is staring at him intensely. He almost shys away instinctively, but he holds his ground. He can’t screw this up for her. He’s already messed up with Goro- he has to learn how to feel that way again for her--

“There isn’t anything here for you, is there?” She asks him quietly. Remorse colours his expression before he can stop it. Sumire doesn’t react to it, at least not outwardly. She begins to eat the food she’s stuck onto her plate as the silence draws out to the same oppressing atmosphere as the day before.

Akira’s trying to think of what to say, but all he can think about is loose brown locks that feel coarse against his fingers, sharp eyes the colour of fine wine, a condescending smirk that could bring him to his knees. He plays with his hair, and his head is buzzing, like the frayed edges of his bond with Goro is trying to reconnect itself, finally realising that this soulbond _had_ to be wrong.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, after what feels like an eternity. To his dismay, there are tears blurring the edges of his vision. He lowers his head and his hopes that Sumire did not notice are dashed as a small tissue box with a cute design on it comes into sight. 

“It’s okay.” She reassures him, but Akira feels like nothing but an imposter, incapable of giving Sumire the love warranted of their bond. What was their bond? Akira never felt this conflicted with Goro; he _knew_ from the first touch that it was just how it was supposed to be; so what was up with this one? In fact, why did he have a second one? In the silence, Akira’s thoughts threaten to consume him; Goro was always so good at making them go away. 

He takes the tissue gingerly from her hands, but doesn’t move to wipe his face. What a failure he is. Placing the plate down, she tucks her legs closer to her body, leaning back to rest against the tree.

“I had a soulmate before.” Sumire mutters after a while. Akira whips his head up, and she smiles at the confusion that’s probably written all over his face. “It was Kasumi.”

_Kasumi?_

“I know that face.” Sumire laughs, and there’s a defeated edge to her voice she covers up with false cheer. “Imagine that, soulbound with your sister.” 

“We used to be bullied about it, but we didn’t care,” Sumire continues. Akira thinks back to two years ago, when Sumire had believed herself to be Kasumi. He’d suppose he never considered the thought. “We were platonically soulbonded.”

“Platonic soulmates, huh?” Akira whispers, and Sumire nods, her thumbs fidgeting. “What’s that like?”

“It’s like you have a best friend, who you’d be able to tell anything to.” Sumire’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and dumbly, Akira offers her back the tissue, now slightly crumpled in his hands. She chokes out a laugh, taking it back from him. “Someone you didn’t need to kiss to let them know they mattered to you.”

Sumire reaches behind her head, unties the bow, and lets down her hair. It cascades down her face, framing it under the light of the setting sun. She toys with it, holding the bow out against the setting sun. Akira turns around to watch the sun sink into the lake, the cool night air whistling past his ears. Without another word, the both of them begin to move in unison, packing up the remnants of their dinner. 

“I think after everything Maruki-sensei did, forcefully rewriting my soulbond and reconnecting Akechi’s and yours, the universe was trying to reset everything. Somehow, because of it, we ended up as soulmates.” She reasons quietly. Akira hums at the idea, folding the mat back into the basket. The uneasy feeling in his chest is starting to ebb away, and he holds up his arm to Sumire. She loosely hooks her arm around his and they begin walking; no clear destination in mind.

“I’d like to think that you have more than just one soulmate, just that the universe doesn’t formally induce all of them.” Sumire rests her head against Akira’s shoulder. “Just like how you don’t need a soulbond with the Phantom Thieves to know that they’ll be there for you no matter what.” 

Sumire stops walking, and Akira is jerked back slightly at the sudden pause. He turns to face her, and he thinks he feels fear, awaiting her next move. 

“Akechi’s the one you really want,” Akira’s heart skips a beat, and he feels shame; _shame._ “Isn’t he?”

“I-” 

“Akira-senpai, you’ve always been such a people pleaser.” She teases, and she reaches to cup Akira’s face. Immediately, the biting cold is replaced with the warmth of their soulbond. Unlike their earlier contact, Sumire remains a calm facade, suddenly seeming older beyond her years. “You’re allowed to be selfish, you know.”

“I’ve always been nothing but selfish.” Akira’s voice is quivering. “I don’t deserve to be selfish about this. It’s your soulbond too.” 

“And as your soulbonded, you don’t think I’d understand?” Sumire insists, and Akira finally stops resisting, letting the full effect of the bond wash over him, the calming waves Sumire is sending out to ground him. 

“What if he doesn’t want me back?” Akira speaks so softly, his words tinged with fear and anxiety. “What if I’ve fucked it up already?” 

Akira never felt so much like the child he was supposed to be at the start of high school. His masks are falling off, revealing someone desperate to make everyone around him happy, desperate to hold onto everyone’s pieces, weeping for the ones that fall through his arms. 

“You haven’t.” She finally lets go of his face, and Akira lets out an involuntary shudder. “Goro Akechi looks at you the way I wish you might look at me.” 

Akira’s heart drops at the statement, and he opens his mouth to protest before Sumire holds her finger to shush him.

“I’ll be fine, Senpai.” Her lips curl into a smile. “I’m too good for you anyway.” 

Akira pulls Sumire into a hug, and when he steps back, he holds his arm out to her again. Sumire has an amused look on her face. Her nose is slightly red, and she rubs away the stray tears off her face.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“I still have to walk you home.” Akira says smoothly, and pushes his bangs away from his face as he lets Sumire hook her arm around his again. His heart feels a million times lighter. “I’m still your friend.”

  
  


\------

  
  


Ann Takamaki was supposed to be packing up to spend her weekend with Shiho, but when Goro Akechi knocked quietly on her door, eyes bloodshot and nose runny, she quickly herded him in, and texted Shiho that she’d probably be late. 

“She just didn’t show up?” Goro asks incredulously, as Ann nods her head furiously, gently patting down a wax strip on the last patch of Akechi’s leg hair. Surrounding them is a bunch of beauty products, as well as what Goro can only assume is Ann Takamaki’s stash of snacks. In the past day, bless her heart, Ann had allowed Goro to stay the night. She tells him all about idle workplace gossip, and goes through self care routines with him all day. It took a grand total of seven bitchy boss stories and one mani-pedi before Goro finally calmed down enough to tell Ann about what happened.

“I know, right? And I told her about the shoot, I did! She has the gall to blame me-!” She stops midway, glancing over to her phone as it lit up with a text. She frowns and texts a quick message back, and Goro raises his brow. Before he could question it, Ann rips out the strip, and Goro shouts, cursing every god he could think of in that moment.

“FUCK-! HEY, you said you’d warn me before you did that!” Goro hisses, and Ann sticks her tongue out at him mischievously. 

“Man can take a bullet, but complains about a little leg hair removal?” She teases, and moves to grab a chocolate covered strawberry as she stands up. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, give me a second.” 

Goro takes the time to look at his nails, manicured and painted black. He hates being left alone, because being left alone means thinking about disheveled black hair, thick rimmed glasses and plain grey eyes with secrets to pry out.

He’s about to pick up one of the gossip magazines Ann placed out onto the floor when the sound of the doorbell suddenly echoes through the apartment, and Goro’s thankful for the distraction. “Akechi, could you get that for me? I ordered us some dinner.”

Goro tugs at his clothes as he stands up. 

His hands go numb as soon as he sees Akira standing before him, dressed immaculately, from form fitting pants and shined shoes to a jacket that’s more smart than it was casual. He’s wearing contacts. Akira Kurusu is wearing _contacts._

Goro is dressed in Ann’s spare shirt and her father’s briefs, strawberry hairband pulling back the hair from his face and his reading glasses resting on his nose. He’s too mortified to do anything except gape at Akira. Akira gives him a once over, and lets out a small nervous chuckle. 

“Hey,” He asks, and his voice is small, like he’s terrified. It’s unnatural. Goro snaps out of it at the sound of it. “...Can I come in?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Goro grimaces, hand squeezing the door knob. He isn’t sure what might happen if he lets him in, what he might do. Quick and clean, he has to end this. Akira nods, biting his lip. 

And yet Goro can’t bring himself to shut the door.

“Sumire and I-” Akira starts haltingly, and Goro’s heart clenches a little at the desperation in his eyes. “We’re just platonically linked---”

“Platonically linked?” Goro laughs a little, and he hates how hollow he sounds and how stupid he looks right now in comparison to the shining beacon right in front of him. “Do you know how rare that is? Akira, stop lying to yourself.”

_Stop lying to me._

“I’m not.” Akira argues, and he takes a step into Ann’s apartment. Goro flinches back, shrinking into himself. “Goro- I didn’t know any better. I was too stunned last night---”

Akira grabs Goro’s hand, and Goro tries to pull it away from Akira’s grip and fails. He can’t deal with this---not right now---There’s still absolutely nothing---

“Akira---”

“Goro Akechi!” Akira raises his voice in declaration, and Goro stops struggling. Akira’s looking at him the same way he did back on a train to Yongen Jaya, like he’s the only one that matters in the world. “No amount of disappointment is going to keep me away from you. Not even if you killed me all over again.”

He takes Goro’s hand and presses it to his own chest. Goro can feel a heartbeat, going a million miles a minute; he can’t tell if it’s his or Akira’s. 

“I swear this on my life, that I will love you, even if the heavens or earth say I can or not.” 

There’s such conviction in his words, it’s like Goro is being pried away from all the logic and rationalising taking place in his brain. Goro feels tears run down his cheeks, and he lets out a low whine as his knees go out from underneath him. Akira catches him, and Goro can’t decide whether he should push him away or stay in the comforting familiarity and warmth of Akira.

“You’re making this so hard to get over you!” Goro sobs, a little brokenly- and he’s in Akira’s arms, and Akira’s kissing him like nothing else matters. He pours in all his feelings and adoration into a kiss, all of the fondness, faint memories of the thrum beneath their skin, and Goro melts, letting himself collapse into his anchor, who stands at the precipice of the exploding star that is Goro to weigh him down and stabilize him.

“I love you, Goro.” Akira starts kissing at the tears falling down Goro’s cheek, and Goro sobs, reaching his hands up to hold Akira’s face where he finds similarly stained cheeks and starts wiping at them too. “I mean it, and you don’t have to say it back.”

They hear a cough from behind them, and they turn to find Ann, staring at them with an amused expression on her face. In her arms are Goro’s clothes, fresh out the laundry mat. She raises an eyebrow.

“You can take it from here?” She asks Akira, and he nods, hands shaky as he holds onto Goro’s. “Good, because Shiho decided to come over instead, and I need you two to git.” 

Goro takes his clothes from her, and mumbles a sheepish apology to intruding on Ann. She grins and flicks his forehead, before walking back to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

“I need my hand back to change.” 

“So it would seem.”

But Akira’s still holding on tight, and Goro has no intention of leaving. Akira pulls him back closer, kisses him deeply. They’re breathing each other in, like they’re still running out of time. 

“Are you sure about this?” Goro asks it like a prayer, eyes heavily lidded and kissed drunk. “You’ll still love me, even if there’s no electricity coursing through us anymore?”

The real answer is that they can never be sure; the odds are weighed against them, and there’s obstacles and challenges they have yet to face. Doubt, insecurity, ready to worm their ways into their hearts and sow seeds of heartbreak. Yet in this moment, Akira wants this version of Goro, imperfect, biting and rough around the edges. He’s never wanted anything more in his life, and he doesn’t need a soulbond to tell him that. 

“We’ll make our own spark.” Akira mumbles against Goro’s lips, and he’s holding him flush to him, like he might disappear if he let go. “I’ll force them into existence, just for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! Thank you for reading! Leave a kudos and a comment at the door if you enjoyed it!


End file.
